


The Reckoning

by kendrawriter32



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), True Blood
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Crossover, Drama, Eventual Smut, F/M, Kidnapping, Racism, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 08:02:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4996999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kendrawriter32/pseuds/kendrawriter32
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two worlds collide. AU Walking Dead/True Blood crossover. No vampires. Plenty of walkers. </p><p>The prison has fallen and they are barely hanging on, even though they have all finally reunited after Terminus. Rick's only light of reason is Michonne, who has become his closet friend and confidant…and so much more.  She convinces him to take another chance—just one more, to keep going. Carl is beginning to see another chance for his father too; a chance to find balance in Michonne. But Rick fears this new beginning so much that he waits too long to plunge ahead, and Michonne is ripped from his grasp in an ugly, violent kidnapping that is more ominous than anything they’ve faced so far. Rick sets out to find her, desperate to save her before it’s too late.</p><p>Sookie, Sam, and the rest of her friends in Bon Temps survive together after the turn. Their struggle for survival leads them into Georgia where they run into a dangerous gang of white supremacists. Tara is kidnapped, along with Lafayette. Desperate to find them, Sookie and her group eventually find Rick and his group. A shaky alliance is formed, with Sookie and Daryl helping to track their friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Reckoning

**Author's Note:**

> This is a scary, crazy experiment. Two of my favorite shows. A lot of my favorite characters. Grounded in Walking Dead world, deviating from Walking Dead cannon. They collide with True Blood characters, altered from True Blood cannon. A mixed bag of character development and plot shenanigans that I have challenged myself to see through. I hope you'll take the ride with me. Just for the hell of it.

 

> _i’m more than just a little curious_
> 
> _how you’re planning to go about_
> 
> _making your amends to the dead_
> 
>  
> 
> _with your halo slipping down_
> 
> _to choke you now_

  _\- “The Noose”, A Perfect Circle_

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Preface // Monster**

____

Jarell Plantation, Juliette, GA

Present

 

 

(Carl.)

 

 

They all just stood there.

Staring at the barn. Listening to the music, and the sounds of the gruesome murder going on inside.

Some old blues record was playing on a loop while it happened. It went so that all they could hear were screams and soulful crooning. They were all completely still in the darkness, their figures only dimly illuminated by the yellow barn light that escaped through the cracks in the wood, their breath coming out in misty puffs that disappeared as it escaped. Listening.

Carl was frozen stiff, his radiant blue eyes wide open, transfixed on the barn doors as he listened to his father murder a man in cold blood. And judging by the sounds, horrifically. Purposefully. With focused, merciless intent. Like the night he nearly gutted that man, ripping him from belly to sternum with his own blade, and stared him in the eyes while he did it. Only this time, Carl didn’t have anywhere to hide. He didn’t have Michonne to cling to. He had to listen. He had to endure it.

Until suddenly everything stopped.

The last sound was of a blood-curdling scream that dissolved into barely audible gurgles and died away against the scratchy blues record that had gotten stuck on a loop. Then a muffled _thud_. What had made the ‘thud’ sound? An arm or leg? A head…? It was the only one of those noises that gave Carl a gigantic chill, even though there’d been a whole bunch of screams coming from that barn since he’d slipped away from Sookie and come running over here.

Glenn and Jesus had been carrying Michonne out of the barn, and when he saw her Carl was overwhelmed with relief, followed by a sharp, stabbing fear that she wouldn’t make it.

Then he heard the screams, and he realized that his dad had not followed them out of the barn. He was entranced, and turned away from them as they hurried her to the main plantation house, Carol and that Arlene woman on their heels.

Carl knew only a few things for certain in this shitty world.

He knew that his dad loved Michonne. Maybe just as much as he loved Carl and Judith. Maybe even like he always claimed he had loved their mom. He never said it aloud, not even after she was taken from them by that man being murdered in the barn. But it was plain for anyone paying close enough attention.

Carl also knew that his dad would do _anything_ to protect, or avenge, his own.

So he _knew_ …the man who hurt Michonne wouldn’t be spared an ounce of mercy. He was gettin’ massacred in there. A strange sort of calm detachment came over Carl as they all slowly gathered around the entrance to the barn. Those sounds made him momentarily set aside his fear for Michonne and drew him in like a sinkhole.

When the music and the screams stopped, there was silence for a few intense seconds, and then the barn doors opened. Carl saw his dad emerge, walking slowly, his head tilted as though someone had asked him a question or called his name, his gaze burning with the reflection of the yellow barn light. There was that cagey, unsettling remoteness in his eyes that Carl had seen every time his dad took a life.

He was covered in blood. He was carrying Michonne’s sword.  The blade dripped with it. Normally, Carl would have run toward his father, but tonight he stood still. He had never seen it staring directly back at him like this before. He was simultaneously terrified of it and mesmerized by it.

The monster.

Those weren’t his dad’s eyes staring back at him, dark except for the glow of the barn light, totally dethatched from the world around them. It wasn’t his dad covered in all that blood, soaking his face and hair, wetting the shoulders and chest of his shirt, splashed across his black jeans in angry, jagged patterns.

They stared at each other, father and son. Only it was _the monster_ Carl saw, not his dad.

There was no mistaking it. Even if those horrible sounds hadn’t already announced the monster’s presence, that dark, scorching look in his eyes was a dead giveaway.

Carl wondered if he looked like that when _his_ monster came out. When he killed that boy back at the prison, and then that Cole guy just yesterday, did his eyes look like that? Would they ever? He thought of Michonne, wishing he could tell her this like he told her everything else.

_The monster’s out now, Michonne. For you this time. He’s out and he’s scary…scarier than ever. I’ll bet that’s for you, too. But my dad needs you now. If you aren’t okay, he might never come back, and we’ll be left with this…thing._

He couldn’t let that happen. Carl snapped out of his trance, a sense of urgency filling him.

He needed to make sure Michonne was okay. He needed his dad to come back. But he couldn’t be in two places at once. His heart reached out to Michonne, and panic started to overpower his fierce hope that she’d recover from her injuries. He didn’t get a good look at her, but even without one he could tell it was bad.

He couldn’t just leave his dad like this. Michonne was the only one who could bring him back, and right now she was probably fighting for her life. He didn’t know what to do. Suddenly, after all this time of being numb and detached, he was truly scared.

Panic assaulted him now, and he whirled around, his eyes searching amongst his group, who were all still standing there like dummies, staring at his dad.

Rick was wielding Michonne’s sword, pacing in a circle, looking as though he wanted nothing more than to find any survivors of the men occupying this camp and slice them up, too. Only they had killed them all. This was bad. No one could get near him. He looked totally unreachable.

Carl was torn, wanting to try to talk his dad down, yet feeling the need to go to Michonne mounting desperately with each second. What was he going to do? He couldn’t just stand there. _Make up your mind, Carl_ …he chastised himself in his head. He hadn’t been this paralyzed with indecisiveness in a long damn time.

Then he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, and looked over to see Sookie standing there next to him. She and her people hadn’t been with them long, but they had helped here tonight, and Carl knew they were good people. _She_ was good people. She was weird, but good. She’d proven it. There was just something about her that told him he could trust her. So he didn’t distrust her touch. Instead he allowed his panic to show on his face, shaking his head slightly, his breath frosting in the chilly air. _I dunno what to do_ …he thought, not knowing why, feeling crazy for it, but still kinda hoping she could read his mind or something. He couldn’t talk. He was paralyzed. Stuck.

The strange blonde girl with the kind eyes gave his shoulder a squeeze, nodded at him reassuringly, and whispered, “Go. I got this.”

He didn’t need her to say anything else. With one last glance at his dad, Carl pressed his hat down hard on his sweaty head and took off running toward where Glenn and Jesus had carried Michonne.

  

(Sookie.)

 

The last thing she caught as Carl took off to find Michonne was _‘I’m coming Michonne, please god be okay…’_

She felt love and fear wafting off of him like a warm breeze as he flew by, down the dirt hill towards the main plantation house, where the others had gone. But now Sookie focused her attention on the dark, disjointed, terrifying thoughts coming from the man covered in blood not ten feet away from her. She’d had to actively fight not to crumble to pieces as she’d listened to the noises coming from the barn with everyone else. Remembering what happened to Tara. _Oh god, Tara_ …but she couldn’t focus on her own grief right then. The noises were too visceral. Too real.

Rick’s mind had gone blank during the whole ordeal. Not that Sookie cared to listen in on what he could possibly be thinking as he brutally murdered a man. Still, she heard nothing. It was as though Rick had gone off somewhere while his body remained to carry out the bloody deed. She could hear the whispering concern and confusion wafting on the air from the minds surrounding her, even feel the purposeful detachment of a few of the people standing around from his group. They’d all seen this side of him. Maybe not as bad as this, but they’d all seen it.

She’d heard Carl, giving what was wrong with his father a name. _The monster._ As they stared at the barn, imagining what was going on inside, she heard them all thinking: _‘Shit, what if he doesn’t come back from this one…?’_ flitted through the girl Maggie’s mind. _‘He’s crazy! They’re all crazy for followin’ him! What if he turns on one of us next?’_ Sookie’s brother Jason was thinking, breathing hard, torn between standing there dumbfounded and grabbing his people to make a run for it. _‘I’m glad we got on his good side…’_ Andy thought tiredly. _‘Come on, Rick. Come on back, man…’_ Daryl only kept repeating to himself hopefully, although outwardly he was as stoic as ever _._ _‘He’s too dangerous to lead this group…to lead **anyone**..._ ’ Sam, itching to do something too, but like everyone else, not finding an answer either.

Then she heard the boy panicking, and that’s when she pulled her courage back on up from its hiding place and moved forward.

Rick was shaking slightly and nodding his head every few seconds as though he was answering a question no one had asked. Daryl had tried to approach him, so did Maggie and even Sam. He just stared at them as though he didn’t recognize them, backing away, pacing, or laxly pointing the sword at them as though he wanted to use it but didn’t have the heart.

He thought Michonne was dead or dying. He was distraught. Just as torn as Carl had been. He wanted to see her; he didn’t want to see her die. He didn’t want anyone to come near him; he was afraid they’d tell him she’d died…despite all he’d done to get to her…despite what he’d just done to avenge her…if she died tonight he’d go off the deep end. Sookie could hear it, playing over and over again in his head like that scratchy blues record that had been on a loop during the bloodshed in the barn. He needed help. He needed Michonne. But Sookie was all he had right now. Carl trusted her, so she’d have to do.

She approached Rick cautiously.

She knew what she had to do. What she had to show him. She hadn’t done this in a long time. Only once actually. But it was her only plan for snapping him out of this horrible state he was in. They’d come too far for him to fall to pieces now. She knew that, because she could feel, deep down, he knew that too.

“Rick…?” She cautioned, taking slow, deliberate steps in his direction. Everyone turned to look at her in disbelief when she spoke, but she ignored them. Jason frowned at her, moving to stop her, but she shook her head, giving him a look that said _trust me_.

Rick looked up at her briefly as he paced, rubbing his eyebrow with the back of his sword hand. He looked dazed. Cagey. Poised to strike. Like a lion pacing in his pin at the zoo.

“Hey. It’s Sookie, remember?”

Rick stopped pacing and stood there staring at her. His eyes were so dark that they looked like black pools; all traces of his bright blues had dimmed with his deeds.  He swallowed hard and she didn’t have to read his mind to see the fear all over his face. She had to get closer. She needed to touch him.

She inched forward. He took a step backward, but lowered Michonne’s sword, watching her coming. She got closer and closer, trying to talk to him as she did so, to sooth him to her approach.

“The fight is over. We’re the only ones here.” She gestured around them, hoping he’d listen. He looked around and then his eyes found hers again. He was just standing there, his face a mask of darkness. “Please…you gotta come with us. You gotta come back to the house now.”

He tilted his head again, his eyes moving downward. “Michonne…” his voice was hollow and scratchy like he’d been yelling for hours.

Sookie was right in front of him now. She was close enough to touch. She nodded. “She’s countin’ on you. So is Carl. You gotta come back with me. Please?”

She wasn’t getting through. He was far adrift, looking around at the barn and the people watching them as though he didn’t quite recognize where he was. She tried again.

“Rick, please?”

He turned back to focus on her again at the sound of her voice, only just barely remembering himself.

“Is she…?” He became emotional, bending over suddenly to hide the onset of what she recognized as grief and fear as it nearly drove him to sobs. He swallowed them down, however, and stood upright again shakily. “Where is she? Is she…?” She heard the thought…saw the images in his mind of her abused body, how lifeless she’d been when they found her. _Is she dead?_ He was monumentally afraid of her answer. Her empathy for him was almost overwhelming. She pressed on.

“She’s fightin’.” Sookie couldn’t say that with one hundred percent honesty. But she knew Michonne through his thoughts; through Carl’s; through everyone’s. She knew enough to know that she was probably right about that. Still, she’d made Carl a promise to bring his father back. She couldn’t go back on it now. “She’s waitin’ for you.”

Rick looked off into the night sky again, still unsteady, still drifting in and out of madness before her eyes.

“Sookie, get away from him!” Jason hissed, taking several steps in their direction. Rick looked back down at him as though he was a fly that needed swatting.

“Hey man, back off. She’s got it.” Daryl chimed in quietly. Though she was annoyed at her brother, and grateful for Daryl’s defense, Sookie paid no attention to any of it. She focused on Rick.

Finally, slowly, she reached out a hand. Touched his bloody arm. He jerked once, but stayed still.

And she pulled forth all her mental fortitude, and she showed him what she’d seen in his mind almost from the first day she’d met him.

Michonne, with Carl’s head in her lap, sleeping in an abandoned truck.

Michonne, in the stream, washing Rick clean of all the blood.

Michonne, laughing at something he’d said as they lay tangled up together in an abandoned house on a run.

Michonne, singing to Judith when she didn’t know he was watching.

Michonne, staring at him through the wire fence at the prison, a vision that had instantly awed and touched him the moment they clapped eyes together.

Rick, watching Michonne laugh, talk to his son as though they were the only two people in the world, take charge when he needed her to, fight for him and his children and all the others, loving her more and more with each day. Rick, coming back to the land of the living, to a place of balance, at Michonne’s behest.

“It’s not too late, Rick, remember?” She referenced something he’d said to her not two days ago. “You’re stronger than this. You always think she’s stronger than you, but now she needs you.” Sookie let go of his arm and he blinked rapidly at her, alarmed at what she’d just done, confused by it, but finally coming back to himself. “So you gotta get your shit together. _Now._ Can you do that?”

He stood there quietly for a moment, still staring at her. She could hear he was bewildered by the visions she’d shown him, but he sniffed and cleared his throat, nodding at her in confirmation of her request.

Sookie turned to the others. “It’s okay, y’all.”

Sam stepped up, still wary of Rick, but knowing enough about Sookie to trust her word by now. “Jason, Daryl, Andy—why don’t we just make sure we’re all clear? Sookie’s got this.”

Daryl took a sidelong look at Rick and Sookie before nodding his acquiescence. “Yeah, alright.”

Andy followed suit, cautiously. Jason stood by stubbornly with Maggie and Glenn, who had come back from the main house just as Carl shot past him like a race horse. “I ain't leaving Sookie.”

“I’ll go,” Maggie spoke up. Her gaze landed on Sookie. “You sure?”

Sookie nodded, understanding that they were still working on fully trusting her, and that she’d have some explaining to do later. Maggie gave Glenn a squeeze of his hand before following Sam and Andy to check the lay of the land one more time for walkers or unknown men from the Laurels’ group who’d managed to slip past them.

Rick moved to walk past Sookie towards the plantation house, but she hopped in front of him. “Hey, there’s a well over there,” she pointed past the barn, about a yard away. “You’re covered in blood.”

He looked down at himself, studying himself in the darkness. Then he turned and walked toward the well without another word. Sookie turned to gesture to Jason that she was okay. He looked like he wanted to protest, but he knew his sister, and he knew she would tell him if she needed him. Right now she didn’t. Glenn, thankfully, read the situation and gave Jason a pat on the shoulder.

“Hey man, let’s go see what kind of supplies they’ve got, okay? Guns, food, whatever. Maybe extra medical supplies for…” he trailed off, not wishing to mention Michonne with Rick in earshot.

Jason ignored him at first, staring hard at Rick and then his sister, thinking: _Sookie, I’ll kill him if he fucks with you…_

She nodded, trying to convey with her eyes that she was fine; that she could take care of herself. After a long, hesitant pause, Jason finally relented. They split off; Jason headed out with Glenn, Maggie, Andy and Daryl headed off with Sam, Sookie following Rick, who was already disappearing into the darkness on his way to the well.

When she caught up with him, he was standing in front of the well, unmoving. Sookie took a deep breath and marched forward. “Let me help you.”

He watched her pump the well and pull the bucket up. He was studying her like she wasn’t human; like she was some other thing that he couldn’t put his finger on. She was used to it. Anyone who knew her secret looked at her like that. She told herself she didn’t have a choice—she had promised Carl to bring his dad back. She had to. She comforted herself with that notion as she turned toward him, sat the bucket down, and cautiously reached for Michonne’s sword.

Rick looked down at it for a long time, and then finally handed it over. She leaned it against the brick, circular wall of the well and reached for his gun belt. He took it off robotically, still watching her. Sookie sat his giant gun in its holster on the ground near the sword.

Then she turned and picked up the bucket. Rick braced himself, kneeling in front of her, and bowed his head as she doused him in the water.

Slowly, she poured the water over his head and watched it turn red as it washed away the blood from his hair, face, neck, and arms. He was thinking of Michonne now; thinking of how she had patiently led him to that stream and washed away his terrible sins. That was good. He was coming back. When she was out of water, she stepped back and let him shake it off. He sniffed, running his hand slowly down his face. His salt and pepper beard dripped slightly as he turned to face her.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. Sookie merely nodded. Rick leaned over and picked up his belt, putting it on slowly. He sighed, long and hard. He rubbed his fingers together at his sides, hesitant, looking off into the distance toward the main plantation house, where he knew they were waiting. Michonne was waiting.

“You ready?”

He nodded, still looking off toward the house.

Sookie picked up Michonne’s sword for him, and he began to walk. Then he began to run. She kept pace as best she could, now praying that all this hadn’t been in vain. Hoping that Michonne was still fighting, like she’d promised him.

 

 


End file.
